


The Great Escape

by BurliForti



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 18th Century, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Human, F/M, Female-Presenting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Gift, How Do I Tag, Human AU, Lady Azirphale, Male-Presenting Crowley (Good Omens), Minor Violence, Regency Era, Runaway Bride, Victorian era, Weddings, historically vague
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-04-22 17:55:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22199488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurliForti/pseuds/BurliForti
Summary: This was not Crowley’s day. Harassed for debts he couldn't pay off, he would need a miracle to raise enough money in a single day to avoid retribution.When he comes across a poorly disguised noblewoman hoping to explore London one last time before being married off, the con artist in Crowley thinks it's just too good to be true.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 143
Collections: Good Omens Holiday Swap 2019





	The Great Escape

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OneofWebs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneofWebs/gifts).

> This was written for tantumuna/OneofWebs for the Good Omens Holiday Swap. It is also extraordinarily late. I am very sorry, I was taken off guard by how busy exams and the holiday break ended up being. It also ended up about being about twice as long as I had planned. Whoops. This is my first published work in a long, long time and my first published work on AO3. It is a bit nervewracking but I need to start somewhere. 
> 
> When I saw that I had been matched with tantumuna/OneofWebs I was over the moon and terrified. I love 'With Love, A Symphony' is an absolute a favourite of mine and more recently I have really been enjoying 'Masked'. I had met One through the Good Omens Big Bang discord and thought that they were so wonderful. I was very happy to receive such an amazing person but also nervous so make something that they would enjoy. I hope you do! 
> 
> Quick historical note: I play a bit hard and fast with historic facts. It is vaguely situated in between the late regency period and the early Victorian era. There are definitly anachronisms. I did some research but this era isn't one I am super familiar with. I hope I'm at least a bit accurate. 
> 
> Please enjoy!

This was not Crowley’s day. 

“Why, hello gentlemen, what a pleasure seeing you here.”

“Can’t say the same, Mr Crowley.” 

He flashed the two men an unpleasant smile. Hastur and Ligur both stood over him unmoving. 

“Lovely weather we’re having.” 

They still didn’t say anything. Ligur giving him a cold, unmoving glare while Hastur twitched and fidgeted in annoyance. 

“Did you two need something? Or are you just harassing a man trying to enjoy a drink?”

Hastur put his hand down forcefully on the table, “The money.”

Crowley rolled his eyes and waved his hand dismissively, “I’ve got it, don’t need to get all riled up.”

Ligur crossed his arms, “You’re already a week late.” 

“I got busy. It’s here now, alright?” 

Hastur looked around impatiently, “Hand it over.”

Crowley scoffed, “Not on me, you think I’d just carry that around?” 

Hastur’s eyes flashed red, “Then finish that drink and we can go for a little walk together.” 

“See I would, but…” 

Why today, of all days? He was still feeling sick from the previous evening where he had spent most of the money he had meant to give to Hastur and Ligur on alcohol and bets that ended up turning out less than ideal returns. 

Ligur’s eyes narrowed, “No ‘buts’. You delay any longer and you’ll wish for what happened last time.” 

He winced and instinctively put his hands under the table. “I would give you the money now, but I have an important meeting soon. If memory serves, you're at the Old Bell tomorrow? I’ll bring it around for you then, quick and easy. Everybody wins.”

Hastur put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it tightly. Ligur took his drink and finished it off, “Tonight. If you try to leave the city, we may just have to get the boss involved in this one.” 

They left without another word, Crowley looking dismally at the empty cup. Thankfully the pub was nearly empty this early in the day. Hastur and Ligur liked to make a scene and Crowley had a reputation to maintain. Where on earth was he going to get that kind of money by tonight? He had ways of getting out of the city, but anyone could be in working for Hastur and Ligur's boss. He was well connected. Crowley would have better luck begging for his debt pound by pound on the street corner. He let his head fall to the table. Think. You’ve been in tighter binds than this. Think. 

“You know I’m getting married.” 

Crowley looked up. There was a woman sitting alone at a table. She had a half-empty bottle in front of her and her head resting on her arm face down. Crowley looked around but couldn’t tell who she was talking to. The owner was paying her no mind and the other patrons were keeping well to themselves. 

“Tomorrow! Happy me. New husband, new home, new city, new responsibilities. A toast to the bride.” She lifted her head enough to take another long sip of whatever was in the dark brown bottle. “My goodness this is disgusting…” she muttered under her breath.

She was drunk, or at the very least fast approaching it, and was absolutely not the type of person who would normally find themselves in this sort of establishment. Her clothing was attempting to mimic the styles of the other patrons but lacked the years of wear and grime that could not be so easily replicated. Her hair and nails were pristine and well taken care of. The golden bracelet and chain were clumsily hidden beneath her jacket and scarf. She was pale with rosy cheeks and striking white hair but didn’t look a day over thirty. Well, this was certainly something. 

The woman polished off the rest of the bottle with a grimace. She wiped away the stray alcohol and pulled out a few shillings, “What does a lady need to do to get something decent to drink?”

“You won’t be finding anything decent here, I’m afraid. All watered down and overpriced.” She looked up at Crowley who had pulled up a chair at her table. He put on his warmest and most charming smile. He got a better look at her. Her eyes were red and swollen and her hands were fidgeting together. He got a better view of her bracelet. Something like that would certainly help in repaying his debts. He noticed a golden ring. Now that would probably cover all of his debts. Perhaps some divine being was looking out for him after all, although he doubted it. At any rate, he would not look this gift horse in the mouth. 

“Just my luck.” She muttered. “Runaway for the worst bottle in London.” 

Crowley leaned in, “Now why on earth would a bride run away the day before her wedding?” 

She looked panicked for a moment, but then clumsily waved him off, “Not really running away. I just wanted one last look around London before, that’s all.”

“So your groom is from out of town?” 

“Oh yes. Somewhere up north full of sheep and hills.” 

Crowley motioned for the owner to bring over another bottle. The wheels were turning in his head. He caught a glimpse at her necklace. Perhaps it was his day after all. “You must really love him to be willing to leave for somewhere so far away.” 

Her face fell immediately Just as he thought. If there was ever a time Crowley considered thanking a higher power, right now was certainly a contender. “Well, not exactly…” 

He raised an eyebrow and gave a convincing look of concern, “What do you mean by that, my lady? Is this man forcing himself upon you?” 

“Oh goodness me, nothing like that! It is just that this whole affair was arranged years ago, and I’ve only met him on very rare occasions.” 

Crowley took the bottle that had just been placed on the table and poured the woman a glass. “Now, I would never want to appear presumptuous, but based on your story and your lovely figure, would I be incorrect in assuming that this is not the sort of establishment that you frequent often?” 

She blushed while she accepted the glass that he held out for her, “Am I that obvious?” 

This was going to be too easy. He was used to dealing with the likes of Hastur, Ligur and other shady characters. This grieving bride-to-be was a turtle dove that had found itself in the company of vultures. Crowley smiled warmly at her, “I’d like to think of myself as having quite the discerning eye. And I must admit, my lady, I am moved by your story, and would like to offer you some aid in your difficult situation.” 

Her face fell yet again, “I’m afraid there really isn’t much to be done. And I do want to get married…” She trailed off, her mind going to a distant place, “or at least I should want to.” 

“It does sound like this wedding will happen whether you want it to or not, not much I can do about that,” he watched her carefully as her face continued to fill with despair, “and if you’re out here to get one last night in London this place is certainly not the place to do it.” 

She laughed a little, “I suppose you’re right about that. I guess I just wanted to go to the last place anyone would come looking for me.” 

Crowley gave her a wide smile, “Well then today is your lucky day because you’ve stumbled upon a handsome rogue who is not only feeling generous towards beautiful brides-to-be, and is quite talented at discretion.” 

She smiled coyly rested her chin on the back of her hand, “And does this rogue have a name?” 

“How rude of me not to introduce myself. Anthony Crowley, a pleasure to meet you.” 

“Aziraphale Fell and the pleasure is all mine.” 

She was smiling now but it was still reserved. She still had her guard up. “So what do you say, my lady? A final London adventure with a handsome rogue right before your wedding day in the slums of London?” She was still wearing her reserved smile, but there was a glimmer in her eyes. He almost has her. “You strike me as a very prudent woman, Lady Fell, which while a fine character for a lady, I can’t imagine leaves room for much fun.” She was gingerly swimming around his bait, so delicious and tempting. He had her, he knew it. He reached out a hand. 

“So what do you say?” 

She looked at his hand, then back up at him. 

“Oh, why not?” 

She took it. 

Aziraphale paid for their drinks as thanks for Crowley’s offer to guide her around London. Crowley hoped she would continue her generosity throughout the evening. 

“So, gentleman vagabond, where are we off to first?” Aziraphale was attempting to maintain an air of poise but he could see the excitement bubbling under her skin. 

“How about the theatre? Nothing better in London than a good show.” Crowley replied. 

Her entire face lit up with excitement, “Oh the theatre! Yes, that is a splendid idea! I saw Hamlet at Covent Garden a few months back, it was absolutely spectacular. Do you know what is playing at Drury Lane today?”

Crowley gave her a devilish grin. “Today you are going to experience my London, the real London. Why would you go through the trouble of running away just to go to Drury Lane? You can ask your noble husband to bring you to see Shakespeare, but I'm going to take you to the real fun.”

She looked mildly concerned at his declaration, “I do hope you are not bringing me to excessively unbecoming venues, Mr Crowley.”

“Just Crowley. And you’ll have fun, I promise.” 

“I suppose I am in your hands, Mr Crowley. Lead the way.” 

She followed him along unfamiliar streets. While she had lived most of her life in London, there was so much she had never had the opportunity to explore. Her upbringing was relatively sheltered, and even in her moments of freedom she always heeded the advice of her older siblings to avoid certain neighbourhoods. Until now, she supposed. There were all manners of strange people and strange little shops. While a significant part of her was overwhelmed with feelings of unease at breaking the rules, a small but persuasive part was wide-eyed and fascinated by all she observed. Her eyes landed on the strange man who had inexplicably come up to her in her darkest moment. She had never really met anyone like him before. She knew she shouldn’t trust him, and yet she knew she would follow him. She could not explain why, including to herself, especially to herself. And yet she continued to follow. 

Crowley slowed and turned back to her, “We’re here.”

She looked up to an old building with a sign that said ‘Sadler’s Hells’. She was suddenly feeling much less confident in her guide. 

“Are you sure about this?” She asked. 

Crowley gave her a confident nod, “Definitely. Sadler’s is the place to be. Who’s the expert here?” 

He started to head inside and she hesitantly followed. When she entered, Crowley was talking to a colourfully dressed woman. She caught a look of Aziraphale over Crowley’s shoulder. 

“Brought a lady today did you? Been quite a while for you, Crowley.” 

Aziraphale blushed a bright red at his insinuation. Crowley waved him off, “Nothing like that Trace, just a friend.” 

“And what a fine friend you have brought.” She extended her hand, “Madame Tracy, at your service.” 

She extended her hand in return, “Aziraphale Fell.” 

Tracy had one of the brightest faces Aziraphale had ever seen. Her smile was blinding. “I hope you two are here for the show?”

“You know I wouldn’t miss it.” 

Crowley brought her up to the mezzanine. They passed a handful of strange and colourful characters. Aziraphale saw brightly dressed men and women in strange costumes. She looked up to some of the illustrations of previous performances. Most depicted woman with partially exposed breasts and tight corsets. Aziraphale blushed and looked away. “Where on earth have you brought me, Mr Crowley?”

“Just Crowley. And it’s more fun if it’s a surprise.” 

He grabbed her wrist as he led her to their seats in the dimly lit theatre. Aziraphale was so scandalized by the action that when Crowley pulled his hand away and slid it back into his jacket pocket she was none the wiser to the golden chain that was no longer wrist when they took their seats in the theatre. Crowley let out a deep sigh. That was easily a third of his debts. While there was certainly a sense of relief after pocketing the bracelet, there was a surprising pang of guilt in his stomach. It threw him off for a moment. That was strange. It was just a bracelet from some hapless noblewoman. She probably had another dozen at home. She may never even notice it’s absence. He took the feeling and buried it deep, but a slight unease remained in his chest. He needed to get ahold of himself. 

He turned back to Aziraphale, the charming smile back on his face, “Are you excited?” 

She looked back uneasily, “Excitement is not exactly the word I would use.” 

“You need to lighten up, my lady! It’s your last free night in London, enjoy yourself.” 

“If you insist that I call you Crowley then you may call me Aziraphale. And I do enjoy myself! Just not in this manner.” 

He looked at her sceptically, “When’s the last time you really had some fun?” 

“I read a delightful book the other day on–” 

“Books do not count as having fun.” 

Aziraphale looked thoroughly offended, “Pardon my language, sir, but if you say another word against the printed word we will need to have a very lengthy conversation indeed.” 

He rolled his eyes, “What’s the point of being rich and noble if all you do for fun is read books?” 

“It is not as if I chose this life.” She muttered under her breath. 

He gave her a sidelong glance. This Aziraphale was certainly a curious one. “So any guesses for the show tonight?” 

“I’m not sure if I want to.” 

He laughed, “As you wish.” 

Aziraphale looked around the room curiously, eventually landing on Crowley. He quirked an eyebrow at her inquiring gaze. 

“You are a very strange man.” 

“Oh?” 

“Most people would not do what you are doing. Bringing someone who you have never met around the city based off of some silly request.” 

“Perhaps. I don’t think it’s any stranger than deciding to follow that strange man around London the day before they are to be wed.”

She pursed her lips and gave him a strange look before letting out a deep sigh, “I suppose that’s true.” 

As she said that the curtains were drawn open and Crowley put a finger to his lips. Women in brightly coloured costumes that left little to the imagination poured onto the stage. They were followed by men dressed as princes, as old women, as magical creatures of all sorts, and every other possible thing Aziraphale could think of. She was absolutely mesmerized. She tried to stay offended and unmoved for the first 20 minutes before allowing herself to devolve into fits of laughter, gasps of shock, yelling along with the rest of the audience when the villains appeared on stage. She laughed with delight and her eyes sparkled with joy and discovery. Crowley looked over at her and felt his heart inexplicably swell. 

No, he thought, I am not helping her here. She is helping me, and when she has finished helping me this will be the last I see of this strange noblewoman with her striking hair, twinkling eyes, breathtaking smile–

Crowley cut off that stream of thought abruptly and decided to focus on the show (although he was largely unsuccessful as every time Aziraphale would emote he could not help but to turn at the sound of her laughter or shock.) 

Eventually, the show came to a resounding conclusion. Aziraphale shot to her feet when the audience started their applause. Crowley decided to follow her lead. 

“What was that?” She asked. 

“Burlesque. It’s quite something.” 

Aziraphale looked thoughtful, “I’ve heard of those before.” 

“You have?” 

“Yes, my brother told me I should never attend one.” 

Crowley laughed, “Doesn’t know what he’s missing.” 

Aziraphale smiled at him and laughed in return, “I can’t believe I’m here. It feels so…” her voice dropped to a whisper, “…scandalous.” 

He gave her a wicked grin, “Oh my lady, the night is still young. You’ve seen nothing yet.”

Aziraphale followed Crowley out of the theatre. “So, dear guide, where to next?”

“Have you ever gambled before?”

Aziraphale looked scandalized, “Goodness, no! Such activities are unbecoming of someone in my position.”

“Would you like to try?”

“Absolutely not!” 

He gave her a small pout, “You enjoyed the show didn’t you? Why would you doubt me now?”

She pursed her lips at him, “You are incessant, Crowley.” 

He smiled at the use of his name, “I don’t hear a refusal?” 

She sighed in exasperation, “I will follow, although I must insist on abstaining from gambling myself. I shall simply watch you and observe the atmosphere.” 

He gave her a shrug, “Whatever you’d like.” 

They did not have to walk as far this time. The warmly lit establishment was only a few streets over from the theatre. When they entered, the smell of alcohol mingled with the woodsmoke and laughter that filled the air. While Aziraphale herself had never (and would never) partake in gambling, she knew that other noblemen did, although the atmosphere was completely different.

The gambling clubs of her peers were stuffy and manipulative. They were cold and calculating. Many people gambled away entire fortunes in those clubs. Not here. It was lively, warm and full of camaraderie. She could hear upbeat music and spotted a small ensemble playing near the back of the room. The room was mostly men but Aziraphale could spot a handful of women. They were all conversing pleasantly over drinks and cards. Every so often there would be a cry of triumph or defeat, but in general, it was not at all what she was expecting. She was frozen at the doorstep, taken aback by the unexpected pleasantness when Crowley spoke. 

“Not what you were expecting?” He laughed at her shocked expression. 

“I will admit, it is nothing like the gambling I have been exposed to.” 

He shrugged, “People act a bit different when they’re betting one pound versus one hundred pounds.” He started to walk up towards a table before looking back at her, “Are you coming?” 

She steeled herself and followed him into the warmly lit interior. Crowley went up to a table and started talking to the men sitting around. Aziraphale continued to look around and didn’t realize Crowley had sat down until he laid a hand on her arm. 

“Would you like to take a seat?”  
She sat down and avoided looking at the other men seated at the table. Crowley leaned over to her as the table was set up.

“Have you ever played pharo before?” 

She gave him a look. 

“Stupid question, you’re right. It’s easy though, you’ll pick it up quickly.” 

She watched silently as Crowley played a few rounds. He was right, the game did seem simple enough. Her gaze went from wary and cautious to intense and focused as she leaned in to follow the game. Crowley leaned over with a smirk. 

“Interested are you?” 

“Merely curious.” 

“Are you sure you wouldn’t want to try a round or two?” 

She pursed her lips at him, looking at the coppers in his hand intensely. 

“Are you in this round or what?” One of the men at the table asked. 

She took the coppers from Crowley’s hand. 

“In.” 

Crowley gave a wide smile. Aziraphale tentatively placed a copper on the seven. Other men followed suit with their bets. The dealer flipped over the cards. 

“Oh! I’ve won!” Aziraphale smiled in delight. 

“Beginner’s luck. Have you really gotten so desperate to have your woman lose your money for you, Crowley?” One of the men asked. 

Crowley shrugged, “I wouldn’t underestimate her.” 

As it turns out, Aziraphale was a natural. She was certainly winning more than she was losing. While the bets in this establishment were not particularly high, especially compared to the upper-class gambling parlous, Aziraphale was still accumulating a healthy stream of money. If only Aziraphale had been here yesterday when Crowley had bled money life a wounded deer. 

“Are you sure you’ve never played this before?” 

“Yes, of course.” 

“Well, you’ve certainly got the hang of it now.” 

Aziraphale placed two coppers between the king and queen. The dealer turned over the two cards. She had won again. The other men at the table looked increasingly annoyed. If there was anything men hated more than losing money, it was losing it to women. 

“That’s just bloody witchcraft, that is…” one of the men mumbled. 

The night continued to be very kind to Aziraphale. Men came and went, deciding their pockets were light enough as it is, and being replaced by other men tempted by the money that had been accumulating in front of Aziraphale. Aziraphale had started to enjoy herself thoroughly. Crowley was having fun too. He loved watching as face after face fell after each round against Aziraphale, men walking away from the table looking like wounded dogs. 

Currently at the table, there was Aziraphale, Crowley, an older man who looked just about ready to call it quits, and two younger men who had come together, who’s coppers had been depleting at an extraordinary speed. One of the men, Al as his friend called him, was growing more angry with each round. While at first Crowley was enjoying the man’s misery, his increasing aggression was starting to concern him. His lips curled as the man slammed his closed fist against the green felt. He was clearly drunk and his friend rolled his eyes at him.

“It’s impossible! No one is that lucky.” 

“My apologies, sir. I do not control the cards regardless of my apparent luck tonight.” 

The following round concluded. The dealer flipped the two cards and slid the money over to Aziraphale yet again. The man, Al, had completely run out of copper. As the dealer went to take the last of his money, he stood up promptly and threw himself and Aziraphale who could only sit there in shock. Luckily, Crowley had been eyeing the man suspiciously for the last ten minutes and was up on his feet in a flash when the man went for the attack. Crowley’s fist connected with the man’s chin, knocking him backwards and away from Aziraphale. Aziraphale peered over his shoulder at the winded man. 

“Cheating bastard, I know this is your doing Crowley.” 

“Apologize to the lady and thank her for lightening your load on the walk home tonight and we’ll be on our way.” 

The man didn’t respond, electing to throw himself at Crowley. He grabbed him by the shoulders, throwing Crowley to the ground, leaving him face to face with Aziraphale, who promptly punched him in the face with a shocking amount of force, throwing him to the ground on his side. His cheek was bleeding where her ring and broken the skin. He clutched his bleeding nose that she had presumably broken. Crowley picked himself up off the floor and took Aziraphale by the hand.

“I think this would be a good time to collect your earnings for the night.” He said as he pulled her out into the cold night air. Aziraphale looked a little dazed at what she had done. The two walked quickly down the street and turned a few corners before feeling safe that they were not being followed. 

“Didn’t know you had it in you,” Crowley said between trying to catch his breath. 

“Rest assured, I am almost definitely more shocked than you are at the moment.” 

“Look at you, master gambler and tavern brawler. I don’t think your husband-to-be knows what he’s signed up for.” 

At the mention of her upcoming wedding, Aziraphale visibly tensed. While at first her distress had been promising for his little improvised con, now he couldn’t help but feel bad for it and a fair bit of guilt as well. He felt in his pocket. There was the bracelet he had taken in the theatre, the ring he had taken during the card game. He could probably put together enough by pawing these two off as well as the little he did still have saved. He could end the night here. He should. 

“Where’s somewhere in London you’ve always wanted to go but never have?” 

Crowley rarely did what was in his best interest. 

Aziraphale thought for a moment, “Kew Gardens, I think. I’ve heard fantastic things, but I’ve never had the opportunity to go. My siblings thought it was all a little silly.” 

Crowley smiled widely in return, “Excellent choice. Shall we?” 

She gave him a strange look in return. “It’s much too late, there’s no way they’ll still be open.”

Crowley smiled mischievously, “That’s the best time to visit.” 

They walked through the darkened streets of London. There weren’t many people out this late. A few drunkards, a few people sleeping in the streets, a group of young men laughing loudly. Aziraphale didn’t seem content with the silence and prodded Crowley with endless questions. 

“Were you born here?” 

“Yes.” 

“How do you earn a living?” 

“I sell things.” 

“What kinds of things?”

“All kinds.”

“Do you have family here?” 

“Of a sort.” 

“Of a sort?” 

“I don’t like them very much.” 

“I think I may be able to relate.” 

The conversation continued like that for some time, circling around and around with seemingly no destination. Normally this would have annoyed Crowley to no end but he found that he didn’t mind it at the moment. Not when Aziraphale was asking. 

Oh, not this again, Crowley thought. 

They eventually arrived at Kew Park, and Crowley hushed Aziraphale. 

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” 

“Yeah, absolutely. Nothing like the Royal Gardens by moonlight.”

They crept up slowing to the back end of the glass building. Crowley would occasionally stop Aziraphale when he saw one of the constabularies walking by on patrol. They eventually made it to a side door and Crowley pulled out a small lockpicking instrument. He fiddled with the door for a moment before he felt a satisfying click and pushed open the door. 

“After you, my lady.” 

Aziraphale silently made her way into the building. While the building was quite dark, she was able to make out the many exotic plants that surrounded her. She stood with her mouth agape as Crowley silently shut the door behind them. 

“Quite a sight isn’t it?” 

“I’d say.” 

“Some of the blooms close as night, unfortunately, however, there are a few exceptions.” 

Crowley started to lead her down one of the many paths. There were trees, ivy, flowers of every shape and colour, all perfectly curated in a breathtaking greenhouse. As they passed by a patch of small, strangely shaped white flowers, Aziraphale caught a sweet, honey-like fragrance from the patch. Another bush had green-tinted star-shaped flowers that smelled of jasmine. They eventually stopped under a short tree with white and pink flowers dangling from the large leaves. 

“What on earth are these?” Aziraphale asked. 

“Brugmansia, although most people just call it the ‘angel’s trumpet’.” 

“They’re beautiful.”

“You know if you look over there…” He pointed to another similar looking plant further off to the side. This one was white and purple and seems smaller. 

“Is that not the same?” 

“No, that one is datura.” 

Aziraphale went towards it, almost mesmerized. She started to reach a hand out to touch it before Crowley grabbed it and shook his head.

“Daturas are better known as Devil’s Trumpet and are poisonous.” 

“Funny how the poisonous ones tend to be the most brightly coloured.” She pulled her hand out of Crowley’s grasp. 

Crowley was about to say something when he heard footsteps approaching. He pulled Aziraphale into some of the thicker foliage, pulling her close against him. She gave him a panicked look, but he simply put a single finger up to his closed mouth. He listened for a bit longer, waiting for the sound to fade away. When he felt it was safe, the two emerged from the bushes. 

“Have you gotten a good look around?” 

“Yes, thank you.” 

The two of them quietly returned to the small door they entered through. They quietly slipped through the glass door and into the cool night. 

“We’re going to have to make a run for it, alright?” 

“I hope you know that this is a terrible idea, my dear.” 

“Maybe so. On three.” 

“Wait, can I–”

“Three!” 

They ran into through the dark park. Aziraphale heard a “Hey!” from behind but only ran faster in response. Her heart was beating wildly. She’d never felt like this before. So alive. They continued to sprint out of the park and twisted around a few street corners until Crowley pulled her into a ramshackle building. It was a small home, a single bedroom, kitchen, living space, and pantry. 

“Is this your home?” Aziraphale asked. 

Crowley lit the hearth on the far wall, “Not much of a home if you ask me, but it is where I live for the moment. Take a seat, I’ll get us something to drink.” 

Crowley walked off towards the direction of his small kitchen while Aziraphale took a seat on one of the old, stiff chairs that were placed in front of the hearth. She put out her hands and warmed them up after being out in the cold for so long. She had never been out this late. She had certainly never been out this late without one of her family members present. They must be worried sick. This really wasn’t like her. While she wasn’t exactly the ideal child, she had never really been outright rebellious. Staying up until the early morning with a strange man the day before her wedding? Where on earth had that come from? She hadn’t meant for it to go on as it did. She just wanted a little look around, that was all. She only went into the tavern to hide for a bit. She got the first drink as not to be thrown out for loitering, but the drink had turned into two drinks, and all the angst she had been repressing came tumbling out, and so two drinks turned into a bottle and the emotions just kept coming and coming. She hadn’t even realized she’d been talking aloud. She had no one to talk to at home. Her family wouldn’t have stood for such thoughts. 

Crowley returned with a bottle and two glasses. He set them down on a nearby table, pouring a glass for each of them. As she took the glass. Aziraphale wondered why she hadn’t left hours ago. Why didn’t she leave when he brought her to some bizarre theatre doing plays she’d never heard of? After she had nearly been attacked while gambling? When he proposed that they break into a prominent city landmark? She couldn’t say for sure. Maybe it was her thirst for adventure after such a sheltered life, her desire to gain experience before being subdued in marriage, her curiosity to explore parts of the city she had never seen before? Maybe it was the feeling of warmth whenever Crowley suggested another outlandish plan or looked at her in that certain way? Maybe it was all of the above. 

“Hope it’s good enough for your refined tastes.” 

She took a sip. It was definitely better than what she had been drinking at the hole in the wall where she had met Crowley. 

“Thank you.”  
He sat down in the chair next to hers. Both were facing the fire but angled in such a way that she could still see him with a small turn of her head. 

“So what did you think?” 

“Certainly a day I will never forget.” 

“Glad to hear it.” 

Aziraphale had been very talkative for most of the day but had clammed up since they had entered Crowley’s home. Crowley felt a small feeling of concern despite himself. 

“Are you tired?” 

“Perhaps a bit.” 

“Are you excited for tomorrow?” 

Aziraphale took a big sip of her drink then brought the glass back to her chest as if to make herself as small as possible, and did not reply. 

“Do you need to go through with it?” 

“Of course I do. This has been planned for years.” 

“Not by you.” 

“Please drop this.” 

“Come on, Aziraphale. I bet I now know you better than most of that noble family of yours. Did you really think you were able to do all the things you did today?” 

“I… it’s more complicated than that.” 

“It doesn’t need to be.” 

Aziraphale didn’t reply. 

“You don’t love him.” 

“You don’t strike me as the type to go in for that sort of thing.” 

Crowley gave her a look. She gave a sigh.

“Of course not. I cannot love a man I have practically never met. Perhaps in time, I would hope. But I could live either way.” 

Crowley didn’t reply. He looked at Aziraphale, bathed in the light of the hearth. This is not where he thought this evening would end back in that dingy pub. Her white hair glowed soft orange, her glassy eyes filled with flame. 

“Don’t go back tomorrow morning.”

She turned to him scandalized, “I beg your pardon?” 

He turned and looked at her. He saw fear in her eyes. He saw himself. 

“You don’t want to be with him.” Crowley was getting agitated. Desperate. What on earth was he saying? “You ran away the day before your wedding. That is not a willing bride.”

“You know I just wanted to see the city, stop saying these terrible things–” 

“You do not have a single good thing to say about him or your family. You are no longer that sad woman drunk and hiding in some leaking pub.” 

“You don’t know me.” 

“I know that you enjoy a good show. I know that your idea of a fun afternoon is reading books. I know that you are a first-class phrao with a right hook that can knock a man to the ground. I know that you can outrun the constables at Kew Gardens.”

She looked so desperate, as if she was trying to convince herself as well as Crowley, “That’s not the real me.” 

He leaned towards her, trying to meet her eyes, “Isn’t it? You can’t possibly think that you’re just a compliant wife to some random northern duke after a night like that. You’re meant for so much more.”

Aziraphale shifted uneasily in her seat, “What more could I want than to find a nice husband?”

“Oh don’t give me that drivel. As soon as you’re on that carriage ride north you might as well be dead at that point.” 

Aziraphale looked genuinely hurt by the comment and Crowley worried he may have taken it too far.

“Look, just…” 

She was looking at him now. Tentatively, with her eyes darting around, but she was looking at him. 

“Don’t you think you’re capable of so much more?” 

Her face immediately looked grief-stricken and she stood up abruptly.

“I have really overstayed my welcome, Mr Crowley, thank you for your generosity.” The words stumbled out of her and she made a beeline for the door. 

“Aziraphale–”

She turned to look at him one last time, her hand resting on the handle of the door, “I can’t do what you ask of me. I’m sorry.” 

Crowley didn’t say anything more, just watched her walk out the door. He stayed there, just standing in front of the door. Why did he care? It was just some noblewoman he’d met crying in a bar. He had more important things to deal with. He didn’t get attached, he didn’t have friends. He can’t care about this. 

And yet his head was spinning and his stomach felt like it had been at sea for the last month. And yet all he wanted to do was run after her. And yet all he could imagine was Aziraphale wasting away in some country estate. 

He knew why he cared. Deep down, under all the excuses he made for himself, all of the rationalizings. And he knew what he had to do.  
Aziraphale walked through the darkened London streets terrified out of her mind. Walking around London with a man she had only known for a day had been hard enough on her nerves, but walking around now the dark all alone was a new level of frightening. She eventually made her way through the shifty neighbourhoods and into a more familiar part of the city. When she finally reached her family home she thought she might weep (although the exact reason for her tears was not entirely known to her). She made her way inside with much more noise than intended and was met with the wrath of her siblings on her irresponsible and selfish nature for disappearing the day before such an important event. She sat through it numbly. Her mind was elsewhere. They eventually allowed her to go to bed, saying that she could never tell a soul about her escapades and that she should pray that word never reached her new husband or his family. Sleep did not come easy. She was restless, her mind racing thinking about what Crowley had said. She knew she had made the right choice. There was no doubt. She couldn’t have just abandoned her responsibilities. Even with these thoughts in her head, there was a knot in her stomach that refused to entangle itself as she drifted off to sleep. 

The morning and afternoon passed in a blur of dresses and makeup, and jewellery and hair. Aziraphale still felt numb, still didn’t feel fully there. It’s not like she was supposed to have any agency at the moment. She was simply supposed to sit there and do what needed to be done. She was getting married. Had it sunk in yet? In a few hours, she would be wed, with a new name, new responsibilities, a new life. Isn’t that what she had wanted all this time? A new life? In the end, she found it much easier to not think about any of that at all and do as the maids asked and suck in her stomach as the corset was pulled tight. 

She sat silently in the carriage on the way to the church. She hadn’t been allowed to eat that day to make sure she would fit in the gown that had been picked out for her. As she sat in that carriage, her thoughts started to wander yet again to her chagrin. Maybe Crowley had been right. She did not feel happy or excited. She only felt dread to her upcoming marriage. She had gone out into the city hoping to live it for one last night. One last evening of memories for her to look back on fondly. Instead, she opened herself up to a whole new side of the city that she wanted to see and experience. She was more desperate to go out and experience the city than she had the previous afternoon. But who was she kidding? It was too late now. She was quite literally in her wedding dress on the way to the chapel. What would she do? Jump out of the carriage? She had done quite a few ridiculous things in the last 24 hours but flinging herself out of the fast-moving carriage into the mud would not be one of them. 

The horses eventually slowed and Aziraphale felt her stomach twist. She was briefly grateful that she had not been allowed to eat anything because it was very likely that she would have forcefully lost that breakfast at that moment. The door opened and the man who had been driving the marriage helped her out. She was greeted by a few of her older siblings who shuffled her away to a room off the main chapel. She waited there, time moving at a snail’s pace as she fidgeted nervously. Her brother Gabriel entered. 

“It’s time, Aziraphale.” 

She stood up painfully with the tight corset limiting her air. Aziraphale stood in front of him. “ Are you sure I must leave the city?” 

Gabriel groaned and rolled his eyes, “Yes, Aziraphale, come on. The wedding is now, there’s no stopping it.”

“But I–” 

Gabriel cut her off. He had run out of patience for Aziraphale, “Enough. Get on with it and your questioning and ridiculous outing will be forgotten, alright? This is a brand new day! You should be happy!” 

But she wasn’t. Not at all. Not in the slightest. There was so much more she wanted to do, that she wanted to see. It wasn’t the right time. She needed more time. She turned and took a few steps over to the open window. They were on the ground floor, it was only a two-foot drop. 

“Doesn’t look too high…” She mumbled to herself. 

“Aziraphale, what on earth are you–” 

Gabriel stopped abruptly when Aziraphale jumped out of the open window. She landed a little clumsily into the muddy road, her shoes definitely ruined, her white dress stained with mud on the hem. She looked back to a shocked Gabriel, gapping out of the church window before giving him a gleeful smile before running down the road. The smile faded as the shock settled in. What had she done? Years of the carefully planning, destroyed beyond repair. Her reputation was beyond salvation. This was it. There was no coming back from this. The odd quirks and the strange hobbies got her disapproving looks and the occasional lecture, but what she had just done… she didn’t want to think about it too hard. All she could think about was getting as far away as possible. And before she knew it, her feet were carrying her back to where she had been less than a day prior. 

Crowley’s morning had started fairly uneventful. After staying up another hour after Aziraphale left finishing off the bottle he had opened for them, he had fallen asleep in the chair in front of the hearth. He had hoped to sleep through all of Aziraphale’s wedding day so as not to tempt him to do something very stupid. His plan was foiled by a loud and impatient knocking. He stood up slowly, his sore back and neck making him seriously regret on the chair. Who on earth would be knocking on his door? There weren’t that many people who knew where he lived. When he mentally went through his list he lingered on his most recent guest, trying and failing not to imagine her behind his door. He started to unlock his door, hoping against hope, when he was suddenly pushed back by the door opening forcefully into him. The initial hit from the door which left him winded and confused was accompanied by a pair of hands-on his shoulders pushing him up against the wall. 

“Where’s the money, Crowley?” 

He looked at Hastur who was currently pinning him against the wall, and Ligur who stood not too far behind. 

“And a good morning to you too, gentlemen.” 

“It’s past noon and it definitely won’t be good for you unless you start paying back what you owe.” 

Crowley laughed uneasily, “I thought I’d be seeing you two tonight at the Bell.” 

Ligur walked up close to Crowley, “Boss wants it now. Besides, we don’t trust thieves.”

Crowley feigned hurt, “After all this time, you still don’t trust your good pal Crowley?” 

Hastur shoved him roughly against the wall, “That’s exactly why we don’t trust you bastard.” 

Ligur snarled, “Enough talking. Do you have the money or not.” 

“Of course I have it, so how about letting me down so I can actually do something about that?” 

Hastur reluctantly set Crowley down and he brushed himself off. He walked over to his desk. He shifted one of the drawers a certain way to reveal a hidden compartment. He pulled it out. It was terrifyingly light. His other hand felt over his pocket. He still felt the jewellery he had taken from Aziraphale. The two of them had come over to where Crowley was, making sure there would be no trickery He went to unlock the hidden box as slowly and deliberately as possible. As soon as he heard the click, Hastur picked up the box and looked inside. He picked up the money and quickly looked it over. 

He glared at Crowley, “What is this? This isn’t what you owe. Where’s the money, Crowley?”

He backed up trying to get away but hit the wall. Hastur and Ligur were flanking him. He was trapped. He was trying and failing to remain calm. He felt for the jewellery in his pocket. This would solve all of his problems. He reached in to grab them. He wrapped his hand around them then pulled his hand out empty-handed and shrugged, “Are you sure Hastur? I could have sworn I put it all in there yesterday. I know you’re not the best with the numbers.” 

Predictably, that only made him angrier, “But I do know my money, and this isn’t.” 

They both started to close in on him. Shit. 

“We warned you, Crowley. The boss gave you chance after chance and you wasted them.” 

Crowley laughed nervously, “C’mon, we all know your boss likes me.” 

“He likes his business more.” Hastur grabbed his shoulders and carried him over to the hearth. Set forcefully sat Crowley down in the chair while Ligur lit the hearth. 

“Come on, can’t we come to some sort of arrangement?”  
Hastur shoved him again, knocking the wind out of him, “We’re not playing your games anymore. If it were up to me you’d have been left in a ditch a week ago. But even the boss has his limits and congratulations, you’ve found it!” Hastur laughed maniacally. 

Crowley was having a hard time breathing. Or thinking. Why was he being such an idiot? He could end this now. He could reach in and hand him the rest he owed. It’s not like Aziraphale would miss it after she married some rich duke that would shower her in gold and precious stones. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He had never felt bad for using stolen goods to pay off his debts, but for some reason when it was Aziraphale that he head stolen from, it made his stomach turn. And deep down, a part that Crowley rarely acknowledge, didn’t want to part with the only thing he had of her. Which was stupid beyond belief. He had only met her for a day. Why did the thought that he’d never see her again hurt as much as Hastur forcefully pushing him against the old chair? 

Ligur turned around. He had been holding one of the fire pokers over the fighter. It glowed slightly and Crowley could see the heat coming off of it. Fuck. 

“This was your last chance. We warned you, Crowley. And now you’re never going to forget it.” 

Crowley tried to get away but Hastur held him in place while Ligur approached. He could barely think straight there was so much adrenaline running through him. Even if we wanted to give the jewellery now it was too late. He closed his eyes, hoping it would be over soon. 

“Stop!” 

All three of them turned toward the front door where the shout had come from. It was… Aziraphale? In a wedding dress? He must be hallucinating from the panic, his mind constructing fantasies to help ease the pain. She rushed in. “Crowley, what is happening?!” 

Ligur stepped in front of her before she could reach him. “This is a private matter. Get out of here before we sit you down beside him.” 

Crowley was starting to believe that this maybe wasn’t a hallucination. But that meant… 

“Please, don’t do this. What do you want? Money? Here.” She pulled off earrings, necklaces and bracelets and held them in front of her.

Ligur picked them up and inspected them and then gave Aziraphale a strange look. 

“Come on, Ligur, let’s get on with it.” Hastur hissed. 

He turned back to Crowley, Aziraphale’s face going white in terror. Ligur leaned in close to Crowley. 

“Consider yourself lucky. This time.” He threw the poker back into the fire. “Hastur, let’s go.”  
Hastur looked disappointed but let get anyways. He looked down at Crowley, “If I ever see that face again…” 

“The feelings mutual.” He muttered in reply. 

The two men left with the money and jewellery. Crowley and Aziraphale were left alone. She rushed over to him as soon as Hastur and Ligur had left. 

“My goodness Crowley, are you alright? Who were those men?” 

Crowley couldn’t reply, still in utter disbelief that Aziraphale was in front of him. “Aziraphale, you’re here.” 

She blushed a bit, “Yes, I am. Did they hurt you?” 

He reached out a hand to touch her shoulder, making sure that she was really there. “How?” 

“Doesn’t matter.” 

“But your wedding?”

Aziraphale grinned sheepishly, “Indefinitely postponed.” 

Crowley laughed, “That’s quite the get-up you’ve got on.” 

“It’s absolutely horrendous.” 

Aziraphale helped Crowley up. He found Aziraphale some clothing that she could change into. He helped her with the laces in silence. Both were still processing the events of that day. While she finished undressing he put on some hot water. Aziraphale emerged in a light blouse and skirt. Crowley stopped breathing for a moment. 

He poured them both a cup.

She took it gratefully, “Well that was certainly a day.”

He looked outside where the sun still hung in the sky, “I’d say.” 

Aziraphale closed her eyes and didn’t reply. 

“What are you going to do?” He asked. 

She looked into her drink, “I’m… not sure. I didn’t have much time to think things through.”

“Well, you can stay here.” He looked at her earnestly. He would be shocked if she would accept his offer after what she had just witnessed, but he still needed to ask. She looked back at him and blushed. 

“I would be very appreciative of that.” 

The sun poured in through the window. “Still got a few more hours of daylight.” 

Aziraphale eyed him, “Did you have something in mind?”

“One evening is definitely not enough time to experience all London has to offer.” 

He reached out a hand. 

“So what do you say?” 

She looked up at him and grinned. 

“Oh, why not?” 

She took it.


End file.
